


Mother Says to Stay Right Here

by doyouthinkimspooky



Series: The Smell of a Special Flower [2]
Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - 2000s, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Montour Falls, Mother's Day, Mother-Daughter Relationship, New York, Past Character Death, Schuyler County, Upstate New York
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doyouthinkimspooky/pseuds/doyouthinkimspooky
Summary: Mother's Day is next weekend and a song takes Therese back to when she was six, finding out about her father's death. Set in the same universe as my main fic, My Constant, My Touchstone, though prior reading of it is not required for this story.





	Mother Says to Stay Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> sOrrY I had finals and then I had a really huge project at work and I had to put in extra hours to get it finished by the deadline but it's all in the past now!! I'm going to start working on my main story again but this lil nugget was to get my gears going. I found it difficult to write a Mother's Day story since, like Therese, I don't have a relationship with my mother anymore, so here's my stab at it. (I miiight add more to this but I'm not sure yet.) Thanks for reading!
> 
> Song for the curious: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uAnCRN2w70

It was the weekend before Mother’s Day, and one of the rare instances in which Carol awoke early to run errands. Therese found the note Carol had left for her — “Gone to the store. Be back soon, my love. - C” — on the bedside table when she woke up unusually late for her. She brushed away the remnants of sleep from her eyes and got out of bed to get ready.

Therese was restless after her shower. Carol hadn’t returned yet. She set up a CD from her graduate school days in the computer tray, and tried to focus her excess energy on sorting through her recent photographs from her digital camera.

 

_Mother says to stay right here_

_Mother says to stay right here_

_Mother says to stay right here_

_Right here_

 

She began to bite her nail and kept clicking the mouse to sort through the pictures, but the memories were overpowering her: it was 1979, and Therese, six, was in the hallway of Schulyer Hospital. Her mother had told her to stay right there in the waiting room, but her mother had been gone for _so long_ that Therese had begun to explore. A nurse had tried to convince her to stay right there with her at the desk to wait for her mommy to come and find her, but Therese had told the nurse she would walk back to the waiting room herself. She did as much as she needed to while the nurse watched her, but when the nurse busily returned to her work, Therese had went off wandering again. When her mother had finally found her as far as she could be from the waiting room (of course), she grabbed Therese by the shoulders hard.

“What did I tell you!? Huh? _What did I tell you!?_ ” her mother had said.

Therese had squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears in. She had been too frightened to answer.

In a growl, her mother had repeated the question, stopping at the end of each word.

“To stay right here,” Therese had whispered.

Her mother had let go of her with a push. Therese’s bottom lip shook and she had said softly, “Where’s Daddy?”

But her mother hadn’t answered her. She exhaled loudly and had begun to walk away from Therese, towards the direction of the waiting room and exit. Therese followed, and wiped the tears from her eyes. In the car, Therese had pressed again: “Is Daddy coming home tonight?”

Her mother had snapped.

“No, Goddammit! Your father is never coming home. He had a heart attack and died, for Christ’s sake.” And then she had begun to weep.

 

“Therese? Honey? Are you okay?”

The sound of Carol’s voice snapped Therese back to the present day. She realized she must have been crying, for her cheeks were wet. Carol rushed to Therese’s side and knelt down on one knee to meet Therese closer to eye level in the computer chair. Motherly instincts had already kicked in for Carol; she wiped the tears from Therese’s face and stroked her soft brown hair.

“I-I’m sorry, Carol, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“What’s the matter, darling? Tell me. What happened?”

Therese shook her head, _no, it’s too stupid to say out loud._

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” Carol said, “but you looked like you were in a trance while you were crying. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just… Mother’s Day, and I was remembering something…” Therese said.

Carol took Therese by the wrist and led her to the couch in the living room. She said, “Sit. I’ll make a pot of tea for us.” And when the tea was ready and Therese had cleaned up her face a bit, she began to tell Carol of the memory. Carol listened diligently, only interrupting to ask an occasional question for clarification, or to say things such as, “That’s terrible!” and “I’m so sorry, sweetie.” When Therese had finished the story, Carol put down her teacup on the coffee table and scooted closer to her lover. She wrapped her arms around the younger woman in a warm embrace, and kissed Therese on her crown.

“I’m so sorry you experienced this, my angel,” she said.

“That’s why Mother’s Day is difficult for me. I had a mother, but only in name. In reality, she wasn’t much of a mother. And when she remarried, it was only a few years after my father had passed away. It was too soon. I never felt like my stepfather cared about me, either. Especially after my half-brother was born.”

“I didn’t know you had any siblings.”

“I don’t talk to any of them anymore. There’s no point. Nothing I could do would make them think any differently of me.” Therese started to cry again.

“Shh, no, no, none of that, now,” Carol said soothingly. She held Therese close and rubbed her back until Therese calmed down again. Then Carol spoke:

“Did you have anyone in your life — like a teacher or neighbor — who felt more like a mother than your actual mother?”

“Yes,” Therese said, “I had a few teachers in high school and professors in college who were my mentors, but were like mothers in that I could trust them for advice about stuff outside of school, too.”

“Well, you can celebrate those mothers you had, instead. And not celebrate your birth mother, if you want. You can cherish the relationships you had with all of your mothers who helped raise you, and you don’t have to devote a single thought to that horrible woman,” Carol said.

Therese smiled. “I like that idea. But, of course, I think we need to celebrate the most important mother of all.”

Carol smiled slyly, having an idea of what Therese was going to say next. Still, she bit the bait.

“And who might that be?”

With a giggle, Therese said, “You, of course!”

She kissed Carol on her cheek and they cuddled on the couch.

 


End file.
